


After the War

by Niko_Niko_Neek



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, I just beat the game and I'm very fragile, Post-Canon, They're just very deeply in love and im crying about it, deaf Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niko_Niko_Neek/pseuds/Niko_Niko_Neek
Summary: He knows her like he knows the map the stars form in the sky. He knew her when she sailed a pirate ship. He knew her when her eyes were blue and filled with endless questions, when they were brown and solemn, and now, when they are green and tired.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 140





	After the War

**Author's Note:**

> I beat the game yesterday and I'm INCREDIBLY fragile.

There is always another form.

He remembers this, knows it by now as a certain fact after having faced the same foe for eons. He can strike down Ganon-Calamity-fed in this case, but Ganon in any iteration would always give way to another. His true visage. Any semblance of a human face would melt away into a beasial swine, horns curling like tusks around a pair of furious, glowing eyes.

Some things are familiar-the orange hair, recognized from when he had been a child out of Kokori so long ago. The weapons, glowing blue now, but as he recalls from his time spent by the sea with a little sister who’s name he can no longer recall. The pig stature, inhuman and bestial, recalled from the life where he’d been given a rod that could control the seasons.

But, in hindsight, he doesn’t recall it being this big before.

The smouldering sky burns red with unspent rage, and Link remembers when the city burned. It was a day much the same as this one.

_Link._

A voice he knows as well as his own brushes past, faint but present.

_Courage need not be remembered._

She’s right. But, as he strings the glistening bow in his hands, Link remembers nonetheless.

There is silence after the beast is dispelled, but there is always silence. He isn’t sure if he’s always been deaf or if this time it’s the result of some old injury, he just knows that he is. Zelda’s voice, when he hears it, echoes more in his brain than his eardrums, and when she turns to face him and moves her mouth, no sound comes out.

But he’s adept at lip-reading, when he can see well enough, and though he doesn’t catch the first part of her statement, he knows the question when it comes.

It seems like one would consider the question as common knowledge. Would he be here at such personal risk if he had no idea who she was? But Link knows himself well enough to know he would be. He’s been made to stop the dark, and it doesn’t make any difference as to his own personal investment.

But he does. He knows her like he knows the map the stars form in the sky. He knew her when she sailed a pirate ship. He knew her when her eyes were blue and filled with endless questions, when they were brown and solemn, and now, when they are green and tired.

He limps as he walks forward. There are tears in his armor that still smoke with the burning sting of Ganon’s many blades, and his hand trembles with effort as he sheathes the Master Blade. Still, moving as though on autopilot, he reaches into the satchel he carries with him, rummaging past the monster horns and herbs to find a gathered bunch of stems.

Steadfast, he pushes the small bouquet of Silent Princesses into her outstretched palm.

He remembers.

Her hand, dark with ash and grime, closes over his bloodied knuckles. He feels the hum of her voice in her chest, where his hand is resting, but doesn’t catch what is being said, and doesn’t feel like he needs to. Her other palm frames his cut cheek, which stings a little, but not nearly enough to make him flinch away.

Nothing really could be enough.

She’s exhausted-they both are, but she far more than he is. He can see her legs shaking with the effort of keeping her upright. How taxing might it have been, to tangle with evil for a century, never allowed a second’s rest? To smell and taste nothing but tar and ash, burning soot scorching your skin? 

How had she not lost her mind?

He catches her as she lurches forward, forehead bumping against his chest as her legs finally give out. Her arms rest on his shoulders for balance and a hammer of guilt slams into his stomach, knowing that he had left her there.

She’s light when he picks her up, and no wonder. She hadn’t eaten anything for one hundred years.

Epona is reliable as always, accepting both of them onto her back without complaint. Zelda sits behind him, her thin arms around his torso. After a little while, he feels the weight of her head nesle between his shoulderblades, and the deep breathing tells him she must be asleep.

He stays awake until they reach the Woodland Stables. He’s had enough sleep for a lifetime.

\------------------------

The firm tap on his shoulder makes him look up from the fire he’s been tending. The sweet aroma of honeyed apples drifts up in the steam, making him hum with satisfaction. 

Zelda looks better, a thousand times better, than when he’d first seen her. Two months of rest and recovery have returned the color to her face. She looks stronger, both due to the recovery and to her own experience. There’s a quiet air of confidence to her posture now. It’s captivating.

Her hands flutter quickly, signing a scentene out to him.

_I’ve been working on something for you. I’m not sure if they’ll work, but please try them._

Link stands from where he’s been kneeling, head tilted in curiosity. It hadn’t taken long for Zelda to leap back into her old standby of research and experimentation, which relieved him. It showed that the Calamity had not forever altered her personality. She reaches a hand out, half obscured by the archer’s glove she’d purchased, and two light blue earrings glint in her palm.

Link frowns, reaching up to tap his pointed ear. She places the two earrings into his palm and signs again.

_Just try them!_

Link shrugs and removes the silver rings, replacing them with the blue ones.

The effect is instantaneous.

The muffled noise of a faint rushing comes clear to them, and it’s the distant memory of a previous life that points him to the cause of it-water. They are near a creek, and he can hear it moving.

His eyes widen. Not only can he hear the creek, but the faint noise of birdsong, the chirp of crickets, the shuffle of Zelda’s boots in the grass as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.

Evidently, her excitement outweighs her patience, and she speaks.

“Can you hear me?”

He jumps a little, because her voice is louder than he expected. When he’s heard it in his mind, it had been faint, almost whispery due to the effort it must have caused her to contact him from so far away. Here, though, hearing it in person, it’s bright and musical.

He can hear the startled laugh that comes from his mouth, which seems a little off pitch, but Zelda’s grin outshines the sunlight when it comes.

“It worked!! I can’t believe it! I was looking into more of the features on the Shiekah Slate and saw there was something about playing back recordings, and though that’s not what’s going on here, it’s a similar idea. They would call these hearing aids, I think, and I’m not entirely sure how they work, and they may even need to be replaced later, but-”

Her words, excited and all running together are interrupted when Link steps forward and hugs her so hard that he lifts her up into the air and whirls her around. 

It’s the first time he’s ever heard her laugh.

He doesn’t let go of her for a long time.


End file.
